


Borrowed Memories

by Erazon



Series: Prompt Weeks [4]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Lance Strongbow Appreciation Week, Prompt week series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erazon/pseuds/Erazon
Summary: "Honestly, loyalty, trust— these things are foreign to Flynn and Lance, but Eugene tries them on like his very own new three piece suit. Lance doesn’t wear it so well, but then again neither does Arnwaldo. Lance, he decides, can try to learn."A collection of Lance Strongbow Appreciation Week posts.
Series: Prompt Weeks [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849057
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Arnwaldo Schnitz

Arnwaldo is a difficult name for the children in the orphanage to pronounce. It gets shortened to ‘Arnie’ or ‘Waldo’ and he hates the sound of them both. Eugene had joked that the reason they were never adopted is because nobody wants a child named _Eugene_ or _Arnwaldo_ , and he’s inclined to agree. Arnwaldo Schnitz and Eugene Fitz(herbert) make a pact; they’ll leave their names for dead at the orphanage door, and the helpless people they used to be along with them.

_Lance Strongbow_ is Flynn Rider’s best friend. It’s written in all the stories— the extravagant sidekick with shiploads of charisma and flair. Eugene has decreed himself Flynn; Arnwaldo becomes Lance. Lance rolls off the tongue, and isn’t shortened to anything. He’s in Flynn’s shadow most of the time, but that suits him just fine, despite his love for the limelight. Taking centre stage means dealing with the hecklers, and the hecklers in their line of business tend to be armed with knives. Flynn doesn’t begrudge him when he escapes through the back door, because they both know he’d do the same.

There’s honour among thieves, but there’s no chivalry among assholes.

When Lance meets Flynn again, it’s clear something in him has shifted, and something shifts in himself too. Honestly, loyalty, trust— these things are foreign to Flynn and Lance, but Eugene tries them on like his very own new three piece suit. Lance doesn’t wear it so well, but then again neither does Arnwaldo. Lance, he decides, can try to learn.

At first Eugene wanted him to follow in his footsteps and shed the charade, to finally stop wearing the mask of a folkloric rogue, but it’s not so easy for him. For one thing, he doesn’t have any princesses to rescue from towers and evil witches, who can hold his hand and reveal to him the error of his selfish ways. For another, Lance Strongbow isn’t the mask that Flynn Rider was. Lance isn’t trying to hide his heart of gold or play coy with his intentions; he wears his heart on his sleeve for all the world to see.

On a legal technicality, Kiera and Catalina pick up the surname Schnitz. Despite himself, they wear it well, but he still goes by Strongbow, and sometimes the girls do too; they enjoy their aliases, when it’s their choice to wear them. Arnwaldo, at the end of the day, is just a word. It’s a name like any other, even if it’s harder than most for children to pronounce. And what’s in a name? Arwnaldo Schnitz, Lance Strongbow, Lancy Perlson— they’re all synonyms for the same noun.

He remembers Anrwaldo Schnitz with fondness, the rotund little boy at the orphanage who paid ransom to the bigger kids and threw rocks through windows to vent the frustration. Although that memory will always be a part of him, it isn’t who he is anymore. Lance Strongbow had been the name he’d taken to emulate the person he’d wanted to be, and he knows Arnwaldo would be proud of who Lance has become.


	2. Fears

Lance will be the first to admit that he isn’t fearless. Everyone in Corona knows it, even after the incident with the red rocks, and his brilliant talent show. The fears he’d thought he’d overcome still linger, even if they’re less debilitating by now. He still hates spiders and he still hates clowns, and he still gets the shivers every time he needs to stand in front of a crowd and sing (which isn’t very often, but often _enough_ around here). Yet though they still exist, it’s enough to remember that he’s bigger than his fear— and that’s usually enough.

Tangible fears are one thing; for as much as he hates spiders, he can reconcile that fear with the ability to squish them underneath his boot. Although he probably shouldn’t be as scared of the spider so much as the man who unleashed it on him, but even the fears that follow his dicey past can be overcome. Eugene has the power of the Coronan Guard at his beck and call, and between the two of them they know the best ways to kneecap sprawling crime rackets.

But there are fears that aren’t so physical, that can’t be overcome with a confidence boosting song solo.

The fear of Kiera and Catalina disappearing off in the night one day. 

The fear of them getting hurt, wether by the Baron or by any other thug who still holds a grudge over him.

The fear of losing his friends to said thugs, or out of a loss of respect for his past deeds.

The fear of dying alone.

He isn’t bigger than that.

He’s found the secret to overcoming it in his family and friends, and the love they have for him as well as the love he has for them. And maybe a touch of some old Skoteiní philosophy; life is best lived in the ephemeral moment, and not the aching past nor unknowable future.

Every time Kiera or Catalina give him a hug, his fears ebb away. When Rapunzel joins him for a song or Eugene steals him away for a night out just like the good old days, his doubts are nowhere to be found. They remind him that he isn’t alone, and that their love is unconditional— and at the very least, Varian and Cassandra proved in turn that there’s nothing he’s ever done or could do that would make them turn their backs on him. And so long as he returns that love, he’ll be okay.

He also does his best to live in the present, and keep the fears that accompany the uncertainty of life at bay. He’ll cross whatever bridge life throws at him when he gets to it, and there’s no use worrying about things that are out of his hands— or at the very least, can wait until morning. It’s not as if he has nothing to fear, but with his family and friends by his side he can overcome it any time.

Although he still hates spiders.


	3. Fatherhood

__

_There has never been anything more fierce_

_Than a young girl’s love;_

_Save perhaps_

_A young girl’s anger._

The first time Kiera had called him ‘dad’, it had been offhand and blasé, spoken over her shoulder as she rifled around in the cupboards to ask, ‘dad, where’s the peanuts?’. He’d played it cool— he was sure Kiera knew the weight of what she had said intimately well and that she wouldn’t want him to bring attention to it, although he isn’t ashamed to admit that he shed a tear that night.

The first time Catalina had called him ‘dad’, it had been quiet and momentous, spoken softly in the darkness of the new moon, when he bade her goodnight and she replied ‘goodnight, dad’. He’d shed another tear that night, too. Since then, the epithet has become more comfortable in their household, a casual term of affection that expresses all they’ve been through together.

And now it’s a battle cry.

“ _Dad!_ ”

He closes his eyes and sighs, and puts his book down on the table after marking the page. _The Ranger_ would have to wait.

“What is it, Cat?”

“Tell Kiera she can’t make me go with her to the stupid gopher festival!”

“I don’t see what the big deal is! Just _come on_ ,” Kiera groans. 

“I don’t care, I don’t want to go,” Catalina crosses her arms.

“Is it because you’re scared you’ll wolf out and chase the gopher?” Kiera snickers, and Lance steps between them as Catalina’s face flashes with an anger that he recognises as her _really_ pissed off look. 

“Come on Kiera, why don’t you and I go instead?” He offers, but Kiera levels an unimpressed stare at him.

“No offence, dad, but it’s not really cool to hang out with just my dad.”

“Because the gopher festival is _so_ cool,” Catalina rolls her eyes. “She just wants me to go so she can ditch me and hang out with her new _girlfriend_ , but then I’ll be stuck on the stands with nothing else to do but watch a dumb rodent run around.”

“Cat!”

“Girlfriend?”

Kiera groans, and shoots Catalina a filthy glare.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a girl.”

“Does this girl have a name?” he asks, urging himself to swallow down the rising flood of emotion. Little Kiera has a _girlfriend_.

“She’s the girl from the bakery,” Catalina adds helpfully.

“ _Ah._ Bakery girl,” Lance nods. “She seems nice.”

“ _Gwen_ has a day off on the Gopher festival and she said she wanted to go- I don’t know _why_ \- but I told her I’d be there if she wanted to meet up,” Kiera groans, and sinks into the couch. “But what if she doesn’t want to meet up?”

Lance strokes his beard in thought— one of the many hats of fatherhood is that of the problem solver, and there has to be some way to make the both of them happy.

“Hm. Catalina, are _you_ to cool to hang out with your dad?”

“No, I think you’re cool, dad,” Catalina answers and pats his arm. Ah, how sweet it is to feel condescended to by your thirteen year old daughter.

“Well then, how about we show up to the festival as a family, and if Gwen’s there you can run off and join her and meet up with us later, and if she’s not you can stay with us,” Lance suggests.

“But the gopher grab is still boring,” Catalina rests her chin in her hand.

“We could always spike the gopher’s food with dimberries again,” Kiera says, and Lance sucks in a breath at the thought of another gopher day disaster.

“How about we just _arrive_ at the festival, drop Kiera off if Gwen’s there, and then we’ll spend the day in town instead? And Kiera can still join us if she wants.”

“That sounds more fun,” Catalina assents.

“Sounds good to me,” Kiera agrees after turning it over in her head, and Lance breathes a sigh of relief.

“And girls,” he adds, “don’t you ever let a girl- or a boy- or _anyone_ \- come between you. Okay?”

Kiera and Catalina giggle.

“Okay,” they echo back.

He smiles at them, glad to see another day of peacekeeping paid off. It’s a thankless task, but it’s one he’d never surrender.


	4. Bonding with Rapunzel

****

“ _Come on_ , Lance, just one date! You don’t know that she isn’t the one!”

“I appreciate it, Rapunzel, but I think I can figure my romantic life out for myself,” Lance says, resting his hand on her shoulder. Nevermind that none of his romantic exploits have ever really worked out in his favour.

Faith just- well- isn’t his type.

Rapunzel tugged on his arm and continued to protest, and it was a challenge to keep his face neutral the longer she continued.

“-And I just think that if you spent a little _time_ with her-“

“Rapunzel, when do _we_ ever hang out?” Lance asks, stopping her in her tracks.

“What do you mean? We hang out! Just last week-“

“ _Without_ Eugene.”

“Well… what about the farmer’s festival?”

“Or the girls. Or Varian”

“Uh,” Rapunzel stalls.

“Exactly! Let’s just spend some time together without dragging somebody else around with us, yeah?” he suggests, hoping she’ll finally let this Faith thing drop.

“You’re right. It’s Rapunzel and Lance time.”

A shrill chirp assaults her left ear, and she amends her statement.

“Rapunzel, Lance and Pascal time.”

Rapunzel, Lance and Pascal time, they decide, is shopping time.

Every week brings new merchandise to the Coronan marketplace, with thrifty travellers stopping by and sailing off again, taking their wares with them. It makes every trip unique, despite how frustrating it can be to discover a new favourite jeweller only for them to disappear at the end of the month. Rapunzel and Lance stroll past the colourful stalls, stopping occasionally to admire a wall of watercolour paintings or to buy a brightly frosted cupcake. Eventually their attention is drawn involuntarily to a stall decorated with all sorts of crystal tchotchkes and trinkets, dazzling them with a kaleidoscope of glinting light.

“Oh look, it’s a little glass Pascal,” Rapunzel coos, picking up a glass figurine stained in green that vaguely formed the shape of a lizard. Pascal trills dubiously at it from her shoulder.

“Look at this,” Lance says, lifting up a glass goblet embossed with gold. “You know, my birthday is coming up,” he nudges her. 

“Your birthday is whenever you feel like it is,” Rapunzel smirks at him. “It was your birthday three months ago, and again only _two_ months before that.”

“I’m trying to get my senior’s benefits early, alright?” Lance teases.

The saleswoman packaging her goods in the corner finally notices them, and dusts off her hands on her skirt before leaning on the tabletop with a wide smile.

“See anything you like?” she asks, her eyes flicking from Rapunzel to Lance. “These glasswares were all made in Nosçae, Hervania- you won’t find better anywhere else. They’ve got a secret glassblowing technique that’s unique to the region.”

“We’ll take the chameleon,” Lance says, and laying his crowns down on the table.

“Aw, Lance. You don’t have to buy that for me,” Rapunzel protests, but Lance waves her off.

“Think of it as an early birthday present.” 

Rapunzel purses her lips but doesn’t argue further; the figurine is adorable but a little too pricey just to buy for herself, but not so absurd that she won’t let Lance gift it to her. Her glass Pascal is wrapped up neat and secure in a bundle of packaging, and with it in hand they set off again. As soon as they’re out of earshot of the stall, Rapunzel leans over.

“So… she was cute, right?”

“Rapunzel.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Lance shakes his head, but can’t help the smile that crosses his face. It’s refreshing to finally catch up and spend time together, Rapunzel’s matchmaking attempts notwithstanding.

And the next time his ‘birthday’ rolls around, he finds himself in the possession of a familiar glass goblet, wrapped up with pink and green.


	5. Prince / King

It shouldn’t surprise him that Eugene turns out to be a Prince. A Prince to a dead kingdom that’s facing occupation from its not-so-friendly neighbours and not a single citizen to rule, but a Prince nonetheless. He’s inherited all the heritage and prestige that comes with a noble birth, and it’s a little late but it isn’t worth nothing as someone who lives inside the palace walls of Corona. Whether he likes it or not, he’s finally welcome among the brass.

And Lance is still Lance; always the best man, never the _best_ man.

It’s not that he thinks Eugene doesn’t deserve these things, and he doesn’t resent him for it. It’s not as if it’s personal— really, he can’t think of a man better suited for the title. Eugene is handsome and kind, and it’s almost as if a part of him has always known he was a prince. While he fancied himself a rogue in Flynn Rider, he had always been drawn to riches far beyond what he needed to survive, and felt most at home parading around in aristocratic disguises; he carried himself with a swagger that Lance had admired in more than one way.

Despite all this, Lance can’t help but feel, maybe the slightest, _teensiest_ bit bitter about it all. Eugene trips over opportunities he’s never even wanted, and Lance is the one left behind in the prison cell. They both started at the same bottom rung on the ladder, both worked and played just as hard as each other, but through a series of fortunate events Eugene has landed himself a proxy rulership over two kingdoms. Lance is lucky enough to siphon enough of that fortune to earn himself a stable life through the benevolence of Eugene’s girlfriend thanks to their past together, but it’s not exactly what he’d call satisfying.

But what if he _had_ been Edmund’s son? The son of a King, at least— maybe not the man himself. It’s not the first time he’s imagined himself garbed in fur-lined gowns and shackles of gold. He’d never be thrown in prison again, and he’d _be_ somebody rather than just a loiterer in the Coronan palace. Prince Strongbow, one day King Lance. Hell, he’d take just a Barony (though he’s sure he wouldn’t want _The Baron_ as a father either).

Ultimately he knows that life isn’t meant for him. Humility always finds a way of catching up to him, and he’s tired of trying to outrun it, chasing after things far beyond his reach. Instead, he can be grateful, happy for what he has; he has wonderful friends and a wonderful family, and that Kiera and Catalina consider him a father worth having is all he can ask for. He wouldn’t give up the life he has now for anything, and he doesn’t _need_ family jewels or portraits and statues of old, deceased relatives he’ll never know. There’s no use in keeping heirlooms that’ll only collect dust or fancy titles that only matter to the kinds of people not worth keeping around, and that the people who _are_ important to him don’t care about.

But sometimes he still can’t help but wonder.


	6. "The Original Strikers"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains alcohol use

****

Lance hasn’t seen Stalyan since Vardaros, and he knows Rapunzel had run into her in Pincosta— but it’s been _years_ since they’d actually had a conversation. What with the whole being used as an unwilling hostage by her father and poisoned within an inch of his life, they hadn’t really had a lot of time to catch up. They’d been friends, once upon a time, and even to this day those memories linger every time he rolls up to a jewellery stand and immediately picks out which rings she’d have liked best, or when he eats a macaron and thinks about how she used to only ever eat the pink ones.

So when Stalyan rolls up in Corona one day, Lance decides to pay her a visit.

Eugene and Rapunzel don’t know she’s here, and he’s sure she’d like to keep it that way, but Lance still keeps his ear to the ground enough to learn where she’s staying. _The Dragon’s Roost_ is a tavern on the outskirts of the city with a finer reputation than The Snuggly Duckling, although it’s usually host to the sorts of high end criminals that have fingers in all sorts of dirty pies, but enough smarts to have alibis for the guards. He’s pretty certain the tavern itself is a laundering front.

And sure enough, there Stalyan is; safe in the knowledge that Rapunzel and Eugene would never betray the pub thugs by venturing into an enemy bar. He makes no attempt to sneak up on her— even if she hadn’t positioned herself so as to keep an eye on the entrance, he’s not exactly the sneaking type. So she simply raises an eyebrow at him as he walks in, and makes no comment when he sits himself down next to her at the bar.

“Stalyan.”

“Lance.” 

“What brings you to town?” he asks, signalling the bartender for the house beer.

“I gotta take the heat off for a little while. Dad’s enemies are my enemies, but they won’t show their faces in Corona,” she answers cooly, taking a sip from her own half-pint of cider.

“You gonna drop in to see your dad?”

“Ugh, fuck no,” Stalyan sneers at him. “Why would I do that?”

“When in Corona,” Lance shrugs, and slides the bartender a crown in exchange for his own drink. It brings an odd thought to mind.

“You know, the last time we really hung out together we were stealing booze from your dad’s cabinet, and now look at us- buying it straight from the tap like grown ups,” he chuckles.

“Right. Before you and Rider ditched,” she says, leaving the ‘ _on my wedding day_ ’ part unsaid. They’d been so young— way too young to get married— but Lance had also been too young to think very hard about what it would mean to leave Stalyan behind.

“I’m sorry, Stalyan. Really,” he sighs. 

“Well, Dad did almost kill you, so consider us even,” she shrugs. They both take a silent swig of their drinks, washing away the bitter taste of old memories.

“I’m a father now, you know,” Lance says to break the silence. 

“I heard.”

“Two girls, Kiera and Catalina,” he continues, and Stalyan is kind enough not to interrupt his spiel about Kiera’s new girlfriend and Catalina’s latest venture into playing hockey, even though he can tell she’s mostly tuning him out. She only lifts her head when he trails off, and realises he’s stopped talking just to look at her.

“You know, I look at those girls and there’s this tiny part of me that wants to put them in a little glass jar so that they’ll stop growing, and put them on a shelf where I can always see them. But then I think of you,” he admits, and Stalyan frowns.

“Why?”

“Because the Baron is what you get when you see your children as your things and not as their own people. And I try to remember that every time whenever they get upset with me, and I get scared that they’ll escape into the night. I just have to trust them, no matter how scary it is, because the last thing I want to be is like _your_ dad,” he says.

Stalyan’s lip curls and she tilts her head to stare at the wall instead of his earnest expression.

“Well, it’s not exactly a high standard.”

“I’m sorry, Stalyan. And I’m not just saying that to clear the slate- it’s funny how fatherhood gives you a different perspective on things.”

Something in the perfect mask of her face cracks, but it’s been too long since he’s known her to be able to tell what it means.

“As lovely as this reunion has been, I gotta bounce. I’m taking the night cruise to Neserdnia,” she says, and hoists herself to her feet. Lance leans back in his seat and watches as she gathers her satchel and heads for the exit, catching her eye when she stops at the door and finally glances back at him.

“Take care of yourself, Stalyan,” he says.

“You too, Strongbow.”


	7. (Band) AU

Being the drummer for _The_ _Dreamers_ is an oftentimes thankless job, pushed to the back as the percussive accompaniment to the brighter stars. At first Lance had been grateful for it; centrestage is an intimidating place, and he’d been happy to hide behind the massive drum kit to conceal him from the audience’s stares. However, the longer he sat on the stage the more he felt as though he belonged there, and that he had outgrown the shadows.

Cassandra also knows the feeling as the band’s bassist— especially since being indefinitely sidelined on doctor’s orders after what he’s been referring to only as _the incident_. They don’t really talk about it, but Lance can’t help but feel as though they’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop, especially as Cass narrows her eyes at Rapunzel and Eugene as they front for an interview while they sit together by the sound equipment.

“What do you think they love more, the attention or themselves?” She mutters in his direction, and he knows better than to stir the pot. He’d thought Cassandra and Rapunzel had made up, but it’s been two months and things aren’t getting better.

“Have you been working on anything lately?” he asks, drawing her attention away instead.

“I’ve been trying to throw something together, but it’s coming out a little different,” Cassandra admits. “It’s not ready yet, but I’ll show you when I’m done.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it,” he says, and he means it. Cass has written more than a couple bangers for them, and he’s glad she’s keeping busy.

“Thanks. What about you?”

“Oh, just the usual. Catchy showtunes I can pitch to just about anyone.”

“You gotta stop ghostwriting for those broadway posers,” Cassandra shakes her head.

“It gets me more money than this gig,” he shrugs. He doesn’t have to mention that their contract is up in the air now that they’re on an involuntary hiatus. Theatre is his real passion, but that’s an even harder industry to break into than their indie-alt-pop-whatever genre. He loves jazzy tap numbers and marvellous crescendos, but there’s no place for them in their band, so he settles for writing the songs he’d love to sing— and selling them to somebody else.

“You’re a talented musician, Lance. The world should get to see it, with _your_ name attached to it. You deserve it,” Cassandra insists. _We_ deserve it, she means. This is the point where he’d usually suggest a short jam session to ease their nerves, but that’s out of the question with Cass’ arm in its current condition.

“You are too,” is what he says instead.

“I’m a musician who can’t play,” she scowls at the ground, but it doesn’t take long before exhaustion melts it away. She tilts her head up to look at him, still sitting hunched amongst the sound equipment, with a weary look he’s never seen before.

“Just… know that I don’t blame _you_ for what happened.”

He keeps that in mind when, a month later, Cass splits off from the band with a radical new image and an immediate billboard number one single, _Crossing the Line_. Things get even shakier, and Lance distances himself from all of the tabloid drama as best he can. Staying hidden in the background finally pays off, shielding him from the worst of the fallout. If one thing’s apparent, though, is that it’s now or never.

He scrawls on the top of the page- _Bigger Than That, by Lance Strongbow_.


	8. Free Day (CTA AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains alcohol use

****

“And get this- Grandma Pearl looks at me and she says, _Lancy_ , _whatever you do don’t eat the pâtê,_ and I ask why, Pearly? And she says, _because it tastes better the second time you swallow it down,_ ” Lance says, and bursts into laugher. Then with a sigh he wipes away a tear and adds, “It’s a shame she sold us out to a cult.”

“That’s grandmas for you,” Lio nods, and raises her glass to clink against his.

Across the room, Eugene squawks as Cassandra tugs on her side of the banner, and Rapunzel paces back and forth between the two of them like a horse on patrol. They’re setting up a ball for something or other— the palace’s new renovations make it the perfect venue for hosting international parties, after all— and Lance and Ilione had been directed to sit this one out on account of the amount of unintentional arson they’d caused at the _last_ ball. Lance maintains that it was the _faulty pyrotechnics_ at fault, but admittedly their competition to provide the most extravagant entertainment didn’t help.

Now they were kicking back and letting the three musketeers do all the work, revelling in their frustration with only the faintest hint of spite. They’d agreed to take a sip every time Cassandra groans or Eugene makes a half-hearted quip, which had ended up being more often than they’d anticipated. Lance is beginning to feel the rosé kick in already, so he can only imagine how Lio’s doing.

Rapunzel furrows her brows at the streamers and whispers something to Cass, earning another groan. They take a drink, and Lio lets out a groan of her own.

“Do you think you should maybe slow down?” Lance raises an eyebrow at her, glancing away from the unfolding disaster.

“You sound like my dad,” Lio pulls a face.

“Hey! Don’t make me remember how old I’m getting,” Lance groans, and Ilione stifles a laugh in her glass.

“Sorry. You know, I think he’d like you, but I’m not about to invite him over so that he can start comparing me to _your_ daughters.”

“I don’t think either of us want that,” Lance agrees, and they drink to that too. Across the room, the squabbling grows louder.

“Eugene, I don’t think I need to explain why a confetti cannon is a bad idea after _last_ time,” Rapunzel crosses her arms.

“No, no- I think launching flaming confetti across the room would be a great way to warm this place up,” Cassandra grins, and Eugene scoffs with his entire body.

“Ugh. I can’t watch this,” Lio’s head rolls as she plants her chin in her hands to watch more intently.

Lance has never felt like an outsider amongst his friends, but when Cassandra comes home he can’t help but feel like the unnecessary fourth wheel to their squeaky tricycle. He knows it’s nothing against him, because when Cass had brought her cousin in tow, Ilione had found herself stuck with the same problem. They’d gotten on right away, and he enjoys her company in the balcony box, sharing their peanuts and snide remarks.

“So guys, what do you think?” Eugene approaches them, and Lance opens his mouth only to close it again. The banner tears away from its pin on the left side of the room, and drifts lazily towards the floor.

“I think they should take over,” Cassandra slides a hand across her face. Rapunzel pinches her nose and releases a deep sigh.

“No fireworks,” she points to Lance, then turns to Lio, “and no swans.”

“Relax Rapunzel, the professionals can handle this,” Lance grins. She already looks as though she’s regretting the decision, but they both know she has more important details to worry about than fixing up the lacklustre decorations and entertainment herself. They’re pressing enough that Rapunzel scurries off almost immediately, cursing herself for wasting so much time already, and like clockwork Cassandra and Eugene chase after her. Ilione leans over closer to him.

“They didn’t say anything about a flaming piano.”

“I like the way you think,” he laughs. 


End file.
